


Only Ever for Convenience

by factorielle



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-01
Updated: 2009-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/factorielle/pseuds/factorielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a mutually beneficial arrangement; that's the only reason they're doing it. Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Ever for Convenience

It makes sense in a way, if you're the kind of person who tries to make sense of apparently inexplicable events – which Abe definitely is. He's practical about most things, including a profoundly rooted wish not to have Tajima publicly advise him on how to get rid of unwanted tension – EVER AGAIN. Having someone close by who's equally as pragmatic makes it a lot easier.

They've worked out a system, by now. It doesn't take much, especially during training camp when they're all stacked upon one another and saucy jokes fly low anywhere Momokan and Shinooka aren't. A glance at the right time, a twitch of the lips maybe, and a few minutes after everyone else is asleep Abe hears rustling at the other side of the room, then the door sliding open, and the game is on.

It's hardly a game, though, certainly not hide-and-seek. A few minutes later, Abe finds him right where he expected to, leaning on the wall just out of the back door.

"The moon's already full again," Izumi points, voice low and thoughtful. Abe automatically turns to look at the sky, at the moon shining higher and brighter than it ever does in the city. It brings a small smile to his lips, a short moment of relaxation – and then he's being grabbed from behind, pulled back against a body more familiar than he wants to admit, and there's a hand slipping down his pants, easy and direct.

"You're under a lot of stress lately," Izumi whispers against the side of his throat. It's not a question: he's right and he knows it. They've been doing this twice a week for months and pretty much every day since summer camp began, most of the time on Abe's suggestion.

Then again, everyone knows it. Things have got to the point where Abe is handling all of Mihashi's life on top of his own, so a certain amount of stress is to be expected and he doesn't want to talk about it. Or about anything else because what he wants – what he wishes- is for Izumi to be in one of those moods where he'll fall to his knees and suck Abe's cock as though he's starving for it, no questions asked. (The first time that happened, it took three days before Abe could look at him without ending up staring at his mouth and getting a subsequent hard-on. Over a week the second time because he'd swallowed, and Abe's been anticipating the third ever since.)

But he can't really give a hint by nudging him to his knees (for example), because theirs is a thing of give rather than take, and he's pretty sure it's not that kind of day anyway, not after that moment earlier in the afternoon when Mizutani caught a ray of sunlight the right way and looked like a shoujo manga protagonist for a couple of seconds, tall and surprisingly good-looking and only so fumbling as to be (the word hurts Abe deep in his soul, but there it is) cute. Izumi noticed.

So did Shinooka.

Sure, most of it is guesswork, and Izumi is better at hiding what he's thinking than Abe can ever hope to be, but he's not as good as he thinks he is, either. There's something in the way he's acting tonight, in the ruthlessness with which he pulls Abe to him, that makes him seem just a little desperate.

Abe would never mention these things though, if only for the sake of getting off. In the same way, Izumi doesn't point out that the simple fact of being manhandled into a weaker position and getting his sweatpants tugged down is making him hard right here in the open, in broad moonlight. What he does, instead, is curl his fingers one by one at the base of Abe's erection and give one long, slow stroke that makes him shiver and breathe out loudly. Then he keeps going, loose and slow, wrapped around Abe from behind and he can feel it, the hard-on pressed against him, the minute twitches of Izumi's hips.

He should push away, argue that something like this goes way beyond their agreement – too much contact, too much intimacy, and hello, _his ass_. This is too close to Being Gay, and worse: to Being Gay With Each Other-

"Look up," Izumi whispers at him. Stupidly, without even thinking about it, Abe does; and there's the moon again, and the stars and the hand wrapped around his cock and the warm body he's leaning on, familiar and comfortable in ways he had never expected – and that's all there is until he comes, gasping.

His brain still hasn't reconnected with reality when Izumi shifts to the side, makes him move, and by the time he's recovered enough for coherent thought he's facing the wall, leaning on one arm, and Izumi is still behind him and nudging his legs apart and...

"Wait, what are you-?" Anyone saying that was a squeak would be a filthy liar, deserving of nothing more than one of Haruna's full-strength pitches to the face.

"Nothing that'll stop you from crouching properly at the game tomorrow. Just let me..."

He doesn't beg, doesn't even say please. Yet Abe finds himself complying again, and he's just done making a mental note to stop doing whatever Izumi says when he feels something pushing between his thighs, sliding against skin Abe had no idea was sensitive, and Izumi hisses softly and yeah, okay, this shouldn't be a problem for the game so why not, why not, when he's still a little out of breath and being kind of held down, Izumi's left hand pinning his against the wall, fingers intertwined without him even noticing. Why not, when he can hear the breathless sounds behind him as Izumi moves in slow, long thrusts (the same way he strokes, the same way he sucks, like there's never any hurry, like he doesn't know what urgency is), the hiss when Abe brings his legs closer together as he gets hard again.

Izumi retaliates to the sudden move by bringing his other hand to Abe's mouth, somehow managing to trace his lips with the tip of his fingers without breaking the rhythm, and fuck it all, the agreement, the conventions – Abe takes the fingers in his mouth, sucks at them until they're clean of his own come and then sucks some more, twirls his tongue around them like he's thought he might do around Izumi's cock, Izumi's cock that's thrusting between his legs, sometimes brushing along his balls and it shouldn't be hot, none of it, but as the pace increases all he can think to do is suck harder on the fingers in his mouth, clench his hand tighter around the one pinning him to the wall.

He feels Izumi coming right before it happens: the tension in his body, the pulse between his thighs – feels it and welcomes it, no matter the embarrassment later, no matter the mess it makes all over his legs. Then he's done and there's a second, two, three, before Izumi pulls his sweatpants back up and slides to the ground, nowhere near as graceful or controlled as he usually is. Slides between Abe and the wall, sits up straight, and doesn't glance higher than Abe's raging hard-on.

The message is easy enough to understand. Abe finds no guilt in thrusting inside his mouth with little to no care at all, because obviously Izumi still has enough control to reach a hand between the sensitized skin of his thighs, and up, until his fingers are tracing the cleft, slowly, softly, barely touching.

Barely asking.

That he grumbles "fuck, just do it" and clenches his thighs around Izumi's arm is a sign of how far gone Abe is; another is that he comes the moment a fingertip flicks against his asshole. Not even long enough to hold out to the challenge, he thinks dimly, sinking to the ground on shaky legs.

Not that it's a bad thing, he remembers a minute or so later, when his breathing starts slowing down, because there's a Line, and it's been Crossed, or close enough. He turns his head just so that he'll be looking when he snarls _that was going too far, you fucker_, but Izumi is flushed, breathing short and shallow, and wearing a strange kind of smile that makes the rebuke turn to _I sort of want to do this in a bed someday and see where that takes us_. He says nothing, in the end: that's not what they signed up for, and his throat is too dry anyway. But he doesn't turn away, just looks for a moment because catching Izumi this unguarded is too rare an event to be missed.

The moment gets longer.

Izumi swallows thickly, clears his throat. "This is..." His bangs fall to the side of his face when he twists his head, hiding his eyes in shadow.

Abe forces away the thought of tucking the strands back behind his ear, of making him look. "A bad idea?"

The answering chuckle is low, sardonic, and makes Abe want to grab Izumi by the shoulders and push him down. "A terrible idea."

And don't they both know it. "What with this weird fascination you have with the idiot left-"

"Hah! A bold statement from the guy who has more pitcher issues than-"

Abe kisses him to shut him up, but when he keeps kissing him it's for entirely different reasons.


End file.
